


Going Up?

by author203



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Awkward meeting, Beginnings, F/M, Short, Short One Shot, author is in love with a figment of someone else's imagination, character driven, character driven is code for nothing happens, jigen is my favorite, mostly jigen/brief cameos of other characters, nothing happens lol, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27512812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author203/pseuds/author203
Summary: Jigen gets stuck in an elevator with you.
Relationships: Jigen Daisuke/Original Female Character(s), Jigen Daisuke/Reader, Jigen Daisuke/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Going Up?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

**Going Up?**

This was a mistake. At least it felt like one. When she had first gotten the invitation, it had felt like a good opportunity. Lots of important people will be there, good chance to mingle, her friends had reasoned. But the closer it got, the more she dreaded it. Important for you to talk to people other than us once in a while, they had told her.

That was so easy for them to say. So very very hard for her to do. She hated talking to people. Especially people she didn't know. Especially when they only wanted to talk shop – the latest hostile takeover or merger or acquisition, who would be laid off in the next quarter, how destroying livelihoods would increase the bottom line. She hated these 'networking' functions, which were really just an excuse for people to get drunk and grope each other. She didn't drink, and she didn't know why she had agreed to come.

And her outfit – she hadn't picked it, was still surprised she had been talked into it – but her friends had assured her that it was “on fleek” whatever the heck that was supposed to mean. These young people and their slang. You're the same age as us, they laughed. I have an old soul, she always countered. It was an old joke, a comfortable one. And comfortable was anything but what she was feeling right now.

 _I am not cut out for this_ , she thought yet again. Then stopped, took a deep breath, and tried to think the opposite. It was just a little get-together. There was bound to be at least one or two people she knew, and if all else failed she could always leave early. Just showing up was half the battle, and she was almost there. She could do this. She would do this.

She shivered just a bit. She never should have let someone else pick her dress – strapless and sleeveless and several inches shorter than what she thought appropriate. Her hair had taken no less than forty-five minutes and six online tutorials. The shoes hurt her feet, and she rocked a little unsteadily on the heels. She never wore heals. But they go with the look, her friends had said. They could be persuasive when they wanted. But you aren't the one wearing them, she had argued. It's just a few hours, they had insisted, and if you are going to go at all, go all the way. So here she was, in this shiny costume, covered in sequins, waiting for the elevator. It shimmered black and red and drew much too much attention for her taste.

That's what it felt like. A costume. For a play in which she had been woefully miscast.

She didn't like elevators either, but she was not about to climb thirty-seven flights of stairs in these infernal shoes.

The doors chimed and opened and thankfully it was empty. Maybe she could talk herself down by the time she reached the correct floor.

She had only been in a moment, gone up one floor, maybe two, when it stopped and the doors parted to reveal a rather handsome man.

As he stepped inside, his eyes widened under the brim of his hat at the sight of her. She heard his breath catch and she blushed. The space shrank to what felt like a quarter of the size as he filled the small lift with his sheer presence. He was a smoker. She could tell that immediately. But his aftershave did a decent job of covering the stench. She almost liked it. He stood beside her and she just stared at him. She couldn't help it. His beard, the cut of his jaw, his suit. That hat cocked at just the right angle.

“Going up?” he asked, watching her watch him from the corner of his eye.

His voice. Oh, that voice. She blushed again. Couldn't bring herself to speak, but she nodded just slightly.

“Good.” He looked at the buttons for the floors, but apparently he was going to the same place. At least he didn't press any. After another moment the doors closed, shutting them in together. Alone. Alone together. And the small room began to rise.

His mouth turned upward in a little half smile and she nearly melted.

 _Get a grip_ , she scolded herself. _You know nothing about him. He could be dangerous. Just ignore him._

She tried. She tried to, honestly. But he didn't make it easy.

He tipped his hat up a fraction. She knew it was so he could get a better look at her. She was somehow both embarrassed and flattered. She didn't know what to do or say. She had very little experience with men looking at her. No one ever looked at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, a little defensively.

“Going to a party?”

She nodded again. In truth, she actually possessed quite an extensive vocabulary but her command of it was somewhat lacking at the moment.

“On the thirty-seventh floor?” he asked, and frowned just a little.

“Are you invited too?”

 _Ah, so she does speak._ “Not exactly.”

There was a jolt, the lights blinked a few times, and the elevator ground to a halt. She had nearly lost her balance, but he had reached out to steady her. His touch was gentle, reserved.

“Careful.”

“Thanks.”

He checked his watch, frowned again. They were somewhere near the twentieth floor, still a long way to go, but they remained still, suspended, frozen.

His hand had stayed on her arm, like he had forgotten it was there, until she shrugged it off.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she said. But it wasn't really. Nothing about this situation was fine. She hated elevators. She didn't want to be here. She wasn't comfortable dressed like this. She hadn't even made it to the door yet and this evening had already exhausted her. She felt exposed. It was cold and she was going to be late and she was trying very hard not to panic, while this handsome stranger stared at her like she was a work of art.

He studied her face. “Are you all right?”

She took another deep breath. Tried to steady herself. “I just really **hate** elevators and now we're stuck in one.”

“Could be worse.”

“I guess that's always true of anything.”

He checked his watch again. After a minute or so he went to lean against the wall, turned so he could still watch her. She stayed where she was.

His gaze was steady, but for some reason she was starting to relish it. Strange. Very. It was odd, but if she had to be stuck in an elevator she was glad it was with someone like him and not on her own. He was a stranger, but his presence was somehow comforting.

That made absolutely no sense.

Well, if she was going to have to spend a distressing evening talking with strangers, she may as well get some practice in. “You're going to the party?”

“That's the plan.”

“But you weren't invited?”

He grinned. “Not officially.” After a moment he added, “I'm supposed to meet my friends.”

“Who are they?”

“Oh, no one you've heard of, I'm sure.” He put his hands in his pockets.

He was vague and evasive. Mysterious was the word. A mysterious, handsome stranger.

After a while, she wasn't sure how long, she gave up and sat down. Her feet hurt, and it was beginning to look like they would be here for a long time. She wasn't sure if anyone even knew they were stuck. Even knew to come looking for them.

He didn't like towering over her, so he sat down too, stretched out his long legs, leaned back against the wall. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered slightly. Her knees were together, legs tucked under her in the most ladylike pose she could manage in that ridiculous outfit.

He noticed of course. Nothing got by him. He had not taken his eyes off her since he got on the elevator, except for a few seconds every once in a while when he frowned at his watch. “You cold?”

“It's this stupid dress. It doesn't cover anything.”

His first thought was – _that's why I like it._

His second was – _that's something Lupin would say._

His last was – _and he'd get slapped for it._

Instead, he shrugged out of his suit coat, held it out to her. She didn't want to take it, but she didn't want to refuse either. She hesitated a moment. But then the air conditioner kicked on and made the decision for her. She took it, her fingers brushing his, wrapped it around her shoulders, smiled her thanks.

It smelled like him, and she breathed in that scent, trying to figure out what aftershave he favored.

“How long have we been here?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at your watch.”

“Oh. Um, half-hour I guess. Maybe a little longer.”

“Fashionably late we'll be I guess.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“It's been a long week.”

“And I'm sure this is how you wanted to end it,” he chuckled.

“Could be worse,” she smiled. “I am kind of tired though.”

“I can fix that.” He slowly scooted closer until he was next to her. “You can rest your head here for a while,” he nodded at his shoulder. “If you want,” he added quickly.

She took the pins out of her hair, let it fall loose and shining about her shoulders. “I'd love to.” After just a small hesitation, he put an arm around her, pulled her a little closer. She fit against him like he had been made for her. For this moment.

“I like your perfume.”

She smiled. “I'm not wearing any.”

“Shampoo then, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

They were quiet for a while, and she could feel her heart slowing, calming. His presence had a soothing effect on her. He rested his head against the top of hers. As much as she didn't want to be here, as much as she hated elevators, she had to admit that this was quite nice. She could stay here a while, and it would be just fine.

“Hey, what's your name?” he finally asked. She told him.

“Yours?”

There was solid thud and jostle, like something had landed on the roof. Then something flashed through the ceiling as they both looked up. Something that looked suspiciously like a sword. It cut a circle in the ceiling. He pushed her aside, shielded her from the debris with his body.

Suddenly, there was – of all things – a samurai leaning down head and shoulders through the opening. “Jigen,” he said, “where were you?”

“Where do you think?” He stood, pulled her up after him. “You have the absolute worst possible timing,” he grumbled.

“Lupin needs us now.”

She was staring at this man that just cut a hole in the ceiling. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't have said why. She was sure she had heard the name Lupin before too, but she couldn't place it. He reached down, and the bearded one – the one he had called Jigen – took the hand and climbed up through the hole.

Jigen turned back and looked down at her. Without thinking, she took off his jacket and tossed it up to him. He winked at her, kept a hand on his hat so it wouldn't fall. “I'll send someone for you. Just stay put.”

That almost made her want to laugh. Where could she go?

“Um, don't go to that party.”

She nodded.

“Let's go,” the swordsman urged.

“You trapped me here; left me stuck over an hour. And now you're in a hurry? Can't you see I'm right in the middle of something?”

Goemon rolled his eyes at the gunman.

“It was nice to meet you,” she offered to the hole in the ceiling.

“Likewise. We should... Um, we should do it again sometime.”

“I'd like that.”

He nodded. “Got to go.”

“You sound like Lupin,” the samurai laughed.

“Shut up.”

She could hear them argue and banter as they climbed the shaft their voices fading.

Well, at least the evening wasn't a total loss. She had a good story to tell her friends now, and being stuck in an elevator was a better excuse than 'I didn't feel like going.' She sat back down, and thought about him, wondered about how long she would be stuck here, and if she could see him again.

She was still thinking about him another hour later when the room started to rise again, and the doors opened on the next floor. She braced herself, not knowing what to expect, but was relieved to see it was him.

He had come back for her.

“I meant what I said earlier. About doing it again.”

“I'd like that.”

“In a week? I'll meet you here? I know there's a restaurant on the top floor.”

“I'll look forward to it,” she answered truthfully.

A man in a red jacket ran past shouting, “Jigen, let's go. We've got to go. Now!”

The samurai was there too. “Time to leave.”

Then a woman rushed by, admonishing, “Bus is leaving. Flirt later.”

He shrugged and followed his friends, saying, “Again, your timing is just awful.” He called back over his shoulder, to her, “Take the stairs. See you in a week.”

She laughed. “Can't wait.” And it was true. She couldn't wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments welcome.


End file.
